Evil Within
by kyou fangirl
Summary: If things had gone differently at the Battle Of Hogwarts. It'll get better past the prologue, I PROMISE! PLEASE REVIEW! :D
1. Prologue

**A/N NEW FANFIC! HUZZAH! **

**Disclaimer: I do not, nor shall I ever, own Harry Potter. That honor belongs to JKR, not me.**

**Chapter One: Prologue**

He was alone. The figures around him, his greatest friends and protectors, had vanished. He now stood, facing death, under cover of an object created specifically to prevent exactly that.

As he walked onward, coming closer and closer to the horde of Death Eaters ahead, he was filled with worry. Not worry for himself, but for what would happen to the others after his death. Would they be able to kill Voldemort? Why couldn't he do it himself?

That was it, he thought. If he himself was a part of Voldemort, than killing himself would be the same as his enemy doing it. Yes, thought Harry, he could kill Voldemort himself, and then finish the last remaining part of his sole in himself. It was the only way he could be sure it would end. The only way he could be positive Voldemort would be completely gone.

He stood there, feeling more reassured than before, and stared at the perso he was going to kill. He was close now. All he had to do was… just kill him.

"A-"

"WHAT WAS THAT!?" shrieked the people around him, everything suddenly in a state of panic.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" he shouted before someone could block his view of Voldemort.

Pain like nothing he had ever experienced flooded through his body all the way to his fingers and toes. He stumbled backwards, a diversion caused by the lifeless form of the Dark Lord.

The pain was beyond sound. There was only screaming in his head. But the screaming was not only his own. No, a shrill, evil cry echoed throughout his mind, drowning out the sound of his own. And then everything was black. The world he was lying in was gone, and he was face to face with Tom Marvolo Riddle. He did not look seventy years old, however, nor did he look like a snake. Neither of them were visibly screaming, but Harry was still aware of the sounds that seemed to be echoing from a far off place.

Both their wands were drawn, but they weren't dueling. Nor were they saying anything, the distant pain still pressing down on them.

Force and pressure suddenly collided from either side of the room. It was a battle of power and of will. They were now both in this body and fighting fiercely for control.

Waves of power, reminiscent of heat, swam in the air around them, and then everything was black once more.

Harry Potter awoke to a crowd staring at him in horror. His friends were closest to him, but they had never been so far away. It was as if he was seeing everything through a one-way mirror of some sort. He could hear everything happening, as well as see it, but they could not see him. He suddenly became very aware that the words being spoken were coming from his own mouth.

"-now you all see what become's of your great _hero!_? He was weak! And now, though my own body is destroyed, I shall reign over all of you through him!" He could feel Voldemort inside of him, quickly pushing him out of his own body and into a corner of his mind. The new occupant was jubilant. Things couldn't have turned out any better for him. And it was all his fault.

**A/N ok, so I don't like the prologue much, but it'll get better I swear! I just thought this was a cool idea. Just for clarification: When Harry killed Voldemort, everything left of him was inside Harry and it took him over completely. Yeah. Just so you all know. PLEASE REVIEW! NEXT CHAPTER PROBABLY COMING LATER TONIGHT! IT WILL GET BETTER, I SWEAR! **


	2. Six Years Later

**Chapter Two: Six Years Later**

The plates clinked as Hermione Granger stood quickly as Ron Weasley sat down at the table in the main building of town.

"What've you done now?" asked Angelina Johnson sympathetically, also sitting down.

"I don't think she needs a reason to hate me anymore," muttered Ron moodily. He poked at his eggs, dully noting how unappealing they looked in the greenish-blue light. He supposed he should be used to it by now.

"Ew," muttered George, sitting down beside his wife. "A bit of the lake water's dripped into my sausage. I suppose we ought to tell Oliver about that. He's good at fixing leaks."

All three looked up simultaneously at the eerie water that went on endlessly above them. Somewhere in the vast expanse of lake that stretched to the sky, the sun that was just coming up was begging to cast light on the lake. Not that it mattered, since they had it magically lit twenty four hors a day.

During the Battle of Hogwarts, the mer-people in the lake had been completely exterminated, along with most of the centaurs. It had taken two years of running for the Order of the Phoenix to finally accept that the lake would be the ideal hiding place. When a death eater had cast the anti-apparition charm- which had worn off with the death of Dumbledore, and the next caster, Snape- he had only cast it on the castle, not the surrounding grounds. The lake, therefore, was empty and easily accessible. Though many had felt it was unethical to take over the dead city, it was large, and directly next to the enemy's head quarters. They had moved in the Order, along with family and allies, to the enormous city beneath the lake.

The three looked back down, taking bites of their breakfast without speaking. It was a gloomy life. While Mrs. Weasley's cooking was still amazing, it lacked a certain something when the very air around them tasted like lake water, and they got constant headaches due to faulty de-pressurizing spells and their friends on the surface who had refused to come were all dying. They had gotten news just the other day, of the murder of Dedalus Diggle, who admittedly had lived a long life, but the news had still caught many by surprise. He had left three years ago, saying that he would rather live on the surface. Having fought against the Death Eaters for nearly his whole life, people understood how he would want a break, more specifically one on dry land. They had all just expected him to die a better death, something it was getting harder and harder to take for granted.

"So," started George quietly. "Have we gotten news about the funeral? Is there somewhere on land he was to be buried, or is he going to be in the Phoenix?" It was nothing short of depressing that everyone called the Order of the Phoenix Graveyard 'Phoenix' and, even out of context, knew what people were talking about when it was mentioned.

Ron's spirits were lifted slightly when a certain blonde sat down across from him. It wasn't that he _liked_ Draco Malfoy, but more that he was the only person in the city Hermione hated more than himself, and if that didn't put a person in a good mood, nothing did.

"His family said they wouldn't allow it," said Draco as he sat, having caught George's question.

"Mornin' Malfoy," said Ron. Malfoy was not, perhaps, the most powerful member of

The Order, but he was smart enough that he got a place in it. If he hadn't been, he might not have gotten a place in the city at all. Being an ex-death eater who had come out of fear, not bravery, did not earn you any brownie points down there. It also didn't help that he was a generally unpleasant person, but that aspect of him got drowned out by the many other people who had grown similarly unpleasant with years of not seeing the sun properly more than once a month.

"G'morning Astoria," said Ron, more pleasantly, as Draco's wife sat as well. She was a more pleasant person, and part of the reason Draco had come in the first place.

"Hello," she said, addressing all the Weasleys that were there. Her eyes softened. "How are you all doing? Are… How'd Fluer been lately? And her daughter?" They were quiet for a moment before Angelina spoke up.

"Pretty bad, actually. I've just been to see them, and… well, Vicky's still crying a lot, and Fluer's just… well, it was a pretty big blow to all of us, I suppose."

Bill Weasley had passed away just a month earlier, and while Dedalus was still the latest news, Bill's death had been devastating for the Order, and for friends and Family. Astoria had not been close to the Weasley's, but had worked with both Bill and Percy on several occasions.

"Tomorrow was going to be… the third anniversary of Audrey's death. I think Perce was headed out and I was thinking I'd tag along. See Bill's grave. I've got the weekend off."

Audrey had been one of the few muggles they had taken in to their community. Her family had died in a large, muggle massacre and she, along with one other, had been brought back to the healing center. A few months later, she and Percy had started seeing each other. It had only been revealed after her death that they had recently gotten engaged. Percy had more recently told his family that it was also the anniversary of the death of his unborn daughter, Lucy.

"Do you think you can get time off for the twins' first birthday?" asked Angelina, clearly changing the subject on purpose.

"Yeah, I reckon Kingsly'd give me at least a few hours off. The man's got a heart," replied Ron, smiling at his sister in law.

Angelina had been an active member of the Order for several years following the Battle of Hogwarts, but that was now a part time job, her two children being her priority at the moment. She still occasionally went on missions, however, knowing that Roxanne and Fred would be in the best of hands with their grandmother.

"Well, I, unlike some people, was not lucky enough to get a weekend to myself, so I should be off," announced George, rising from his seat. "You two ought to come as well," he added, glancing at Astoria and Draco, who also had work. He kissed his wife on the cheek, and apparated across the street to save himself the walk.

"He's right," said Draco, grabbing his wife's arm and gently pulling her up as well. They magically cleared their plates and then disappeared with a quick word of farewell.

Ron wandered the streets of the city. While the city itself was rather large, the area he spent time in was quite small. His house, the order's main building, the library, the large hall where people in the town often ate, and the stores he cared about or needed were all within a few blocks of each other. Now, having come to the edge of said group of blocks, and not having felt the need to stop at any point along the way, he found himself at a loss of what to do with his day off, not having the same day off as any particular friends or family and having nothing urgent to do.

He doubled back and decided to go to the library. His fondness for these places had grown considerably when he reached his twenties, finding it to be a good source of information to help him get stronger, e.i. stay alive, as well as something to keep his mind off the impending death and doom. The death was constantly weighing down on them and it felt a bit like the day they had all woken up to find the depressurizing spell broken and the caster dead in bed with a suicide note on his chest. That experience was filled with both death and physical pressure. Yeah. It was pretty much like that… just all the time.

"Hello, Ronald," said Hermione at the front desk. Rather coolly, Ron supposed, but her speaking to him outside of work was definitely evidence that her mood had improved since breakfast. This was most likely a direct result of being surrounded by books.

True, Hermione owned the library, but Ron had not expected to see her there. She was an active member of the Order just as much as he, and if he ran into her, it was usually there. She rarely had time to spend in her small haven, but he was glad to see that she did today. Ron had never denied, nor would he ever deny, that he still had a soft spot for Hermione Granger. The two of them had dated for about a year and a half after the Battle of Hogwarts. Something had been off, though. They had had little time together, and the time they did share was tense, and often filled with small arguments. Hermione's rather persnickety personality had intensified with her grief at the loss of Harry, and this went double for Ron's temper. When the sorrow was gone, however, the unpleasant mood still hung over them both, and it ended in a large fight. Now they barely spoke, but had recently found it easier to at the very least be civil with each other at work.

The thing that made Ron's love for her unbearable was that she loved him in return, but somehow they still couldn't get along. They had been through too much together.

The war had torn them apart.

**A/N ok. So we've got our first taste of post-DH war. What do ya think? Like it? Hate it? I DON'T CARE WHICH, JUST PLEASE TELL ME IN A REVIEW!**


	3. Drowning in Tears

**A/N next chapter. I warn you: more sadness coming up. I'll try to have a happy chapter next. Just for future reference, thisll be a kind of dark story, but im pretty sure therell be a happy ending of some sort. **

**Chapter three: drowning in tears**

The strange boy was over again. Victoire watched as the boy sat beside her and the door shut loudly. Fluer, this girl's mother, had been having Teddy over more often, lately. Victoire, young though she was, knew enough to understand that it was for her own benefit. It wasn't much help, at first. There were not many people her age in town, and she got lonely a lot, but now that she finally had someone to talk to, she found that she just wanted to be alone. You could hardly blame the girl. Just two months ago, her father had died, leaving her alone with an increasingly depressed mother.

"Victoire," said Teddy shyly. "Do you want me to show you how to play chess? Ron's been teaching me. It's very confusing, but you're smart, right?" Victoire nodded her blonde head vigorously, making sure there was no doubt about her almost-five-year-old intelligence.

Teddy took a box from his bag and set up a chess game, watching with interest as the queens and kings on either side switched places, catching his mistake. "I always forget where the queens go," he admitted, unable to hide his embarrassment as his hair turned a faint, pink color.

He sat there explaining the rules to Victoire for a while, before she interrupted as he was incorrectly explaining the ways in which knights moved. "Are you my cousin?" she asked, a blank look in her eyes.

"I dunno… I hope not," said Teddy. Victoire looked offended.

"Why not! I think I'm a good cousin! Just last week I went to visit the twins!" she huffed indignantly.

"Because some day I'm going to ask you to marry me!" Teddy announced proudly. "And that's un-legal if we're already in the family together!" Victoire looked shocked for a minute, and then giggled. "What? I am going to ask you! But we're not old enough!" she continued to giggle.

"Your eye's have turned pink with your hair!" she said, pointing at him as if he could see himself.

"Hey," said Teddy, after a few more moments of giggling. "Wanna go swimming?" asked Teddy. Victoire looked shocked. She had heard about swimming, and supposedly lived near the sea when she was very young. The thought to swim in their town where there were no pools seemed absurd, however.

"Where?"

"at the edge, of course!" said Teddy. "It's all water! We can go swimming! I've never gone before, but big kids talk about it! They go that way! There's an edge not too far from here." Victoire grinned at the prospect of a grand adventure, and followed willingly as Teddy stood.

They climbed out the window, ignoring the door right beside them, liking the idea of their boring days being filled with real adventure, and walked across the bare ground, covered with long-since dried out remnants of plants usually found in a lake. After a few minutes of general running, walking and skipping, they came to a halt. The thing that was before them was something they rarely saw, and hardly remembered.

"Wow!" said Victoire, reaching out to touch it. Her hand drew back a second later, wet, and she giggled nervously.

"yeah," said Teddy, quieter. Neither of them had seen the edge lately, and never alone. It was a flat wall of water that separated the land they knew from the mysterious depths beyond. "come on!" he said suddenly, not being able to concentrate on being in awe any longer. He didn't bother to take any clothes off or change. Never having swam before made it seem unnecessary. He just walked up to the water and walked in, slightly cautiously, but not stepping back. Once the small boy was completely immersed in water, he grinned, flapping his arms awkwardly to stay on the ground, away from the dangerous mystery of what lay above. Once he started floating upward, and running out of air, he managed to swim his way back in through the wall. He came in a few feet off the ground and fell roughly. He picked himself up and smiled at Victoire.

"Coming?" said Teddy. Victoire grinned and nodded. They both plunged, unhesitant this time, into the water head first. The pair swam, or, rather, flailed in the water for a minute or two, staying close to the ground. They poked their heads out, laughing as they took their breaths, and looking down at the ground a foot below them. Teddy went back into the water with a small, 'sploosh' sound, and Victoire followed immediately after. The two played in the water for a few minutes, going in and out and managing to get the hang of controlling where they went in the water. They went up and down and when they were getting too high, they would jump from where they were in the wall to the ground below them, landing with a thud. They eventually started venturing further out, laughing at the rare moment of adventure. They were children and they were excited.

Victoire started to feel dizzy. She was running out of air, but she just wanted to go out a bit farther before she did. When she ran out of air, she could go back. She went, beckoning for Teddy to follow, and they got out into deeper water, sinking again as she exhaled into the water, bubbles streaming to the surface. She made an unhappy face as she ran out of air, her lungs feeling tight all of a sudden. She kicked in the direction of the barrier, and Teddy tried to help her. Then, he too realized he was out of air, and the two tried desperately to get to the barrier. Never having learned how to swim, the two didn't get very far. They gasped, taking water into their lungs. They kicked and flailed madly.

Suddenly, a large figure plunged into water a few yards away, at the barrier. It was blurry to the struggling toddlers, but in their last seconds of conciousness they could see it growing closer. As everything faded, they felt the slight tug of hands on the back of their shirts, tugging. Then everything was black. Everything was gone.

"-just so tired. This was just so scary! George, they were _drowning_ out there! I'm worried I've been neglecting Victoire since Bill… since…" the voice of Victoire's mother cracked and the small girl could hear her sobbing in the next room. She sat up, feeling nauseous, and looked at the next room. The door was slightly ajar, and light was drifting in along with the sounds of the crying. Victoire looked beside her to see Teddy in bed as well.

"Fluer, that's not true," said the voice of Victoire's uncle, George. She crawled out of bed and peered through the crack in the door. Fluer's face was buried in George's shoulder, and he was patting her head.

"I 'ave been bringeeng over Teddy to keep her busy so I could ignore them and wallow in my own self-pity and look what 'appened! I 'ave been eegnoring her! I 'ave barley bothered to check if she is okay! My daughter's father ees dead and all I 'ave done ees theenk about my self!" she could hear her mother sobbing. George, continued to embrace her reassuringly. He glanced up and caught his young niece's eye, nodding.

She cautiously moved forward, and though the door made a loud creaking noise as she pushed it open, her mother didn't look up until the small daughter rapped her arms around her knee. Fluer looked up with a start, hiccupping slightly. She gazed down into the teary eyes of her only child, the flow of tears from her own, red, puffy ones dying down a bit.

"I love you mommy. I'm sorry that I went into the water! I didn't know it was bad!" The girl was now fully crying, and she flung herself into her mother's now-vacant arms, sobbing into her chest.

"I know, mon petite, you just" sniff "scared me so much! Ze water ees dangerous and I was so worried!"

"I love you mamma… you haven't been being a bad mommy to me…" the girl said, clinging tighter and sobbing still harder.

"oh, mon petit chou, je vous aime aussi! Je serai une meilleure mère désormais, je promets! Je ne quitterai jamais votre côté de nouveau! vous êtes une si bonne, belle fille. J'ai la meilleure fille dans le monde. Je vous aime! Je vous aime! Je vous aime, mon ange..." said Fluer in rapid French. Victoire did not know much French herself, but from her rather small memory, she could pick out 'I love you,' and 'my little cabbage,' a phrase that always brought a smile to the girl's face. Victoire found the sound of her mother's native language soothing and beautiful. Once the girl had sobbed herself asleep, Fluer carried her back to bed with ease, and, in her sleep, Victoire snuggled closer to Teddy.

Fluer returned to the other room, smiling weakly at George. "You are an amazing mother," he said warmly. "And the best judge of that just confirmed it," he said, gesturing to the door. "I think you'll be okay, but you know you can call me for anything. I'm glad you called me today." George gave Fluer a hug and headed toward the front door, thinking that his sister in law seemed to be recovering. He reached for the door, but it opened before he could reach it. A man, several years younger than himself, stood in front of George, panting and soaked to the bone.

"Where's Fluer?" he asked, breathing heavily. "It's Gabriella… murdered… on a mission…"

George instantly found himself thrust aside by a hysteric Fluer who had come to see where the other voice was coming from.

"What!? NO! WHAT ARE YOU TALKEENG ABOUT!? THEES EES NO' TRUE! IT CANNOT BE TRUE! cela ne peut pas être vrai! cela ne peut pas être vrai! dites-moi s'il vous plaît que vous mentez! pourquoi me mentiriez-vous, Alex pourquoi? comment? pourquoi elle mourir!? Elle était ma soeur! ma seule soeur! pourquoi? comment? non ... non ... pourquoi?" the woman collapsed on the ground in hysterics. Not even a hug from her daughter could pull her back now. The other men looked at her, not saying anything, waiting for her to speak first. "How?" she said finally, in the most bitter, venomous voice they had ever heard.

"D-death eater," said Alex. He had been Gabriella's partner in the order for two years, and he looked as though he had cried as much as Fluer was now, and would still be had he not ran out of tears long ago.

"Who?" asked Fluer, in the same voice as before. Alex did not answer. "I said WHO!" repeated Fluer, hate and anger filling every fiber of her being, including her voice.

"D- Dolohov…" The reason he had not wanted to say was apparent. This death eater was the reason both the boy and the girl in the next room had lost parents. The reason Fluer had lost a husband. And now the reason Gabriella was gone.

Fluer screamed a scream that surely woke the neighbors. George wouldn't have been surprised if it immediately alerted Voldemort of their presence.

"I will KILL HIM! WE WILL SEE HOW HE LIKES IT WHEN SOMEBODY DESTROYS EVERYTHING IN LIFE THAT HE LIVES FOR! HE WILL FEEL WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO HAVE YOUR HEART RIPPED IN TWO! JE TUERAI CE BÂTARD BAISANT ET SA FAMILLE ENTIÈRE!" and with that, Fluer dissaperated before anyone could stop her. It was the last time anyone ever saw her, excepting, perhaps, Antonin Dolohov.

**A/N yay. Another chapter. I'm sad. I originally was not planning on killing off Fluer. I like Fluer quite a lot. Same with bill, though. The French is basically 1) terms of endearment and love and stuff about how awesome Vicky is 2) why!? Why!? Noooo! And 3) swearing about killing… someone who she calls some names I shall not mention in English. (for fear of my mother reading my fanfics, which she does sometimes… love you mamma!) I thought she would use a bit of English and French, just to shake things up. I used a translator, so blame it for any grammatical errors. Not my fault. And sorry about the fail French accent. I've tried writing accents and I always fail .honestly, that was part of the reason I killed fluer. Too hard ot write her dialogue. Pleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaase review! XOXOXOXOXO!**


	4. good news

**A/N aww… Hannah Montana and random blondie dude are in luuuuuuvvv! If that sounded sincere when you read it, the 'awwww' was actually very sarcastic. I'm watching the Hannah Montana movie and I HAAAAATE IT! Why am I watching it? I do not know. Lame. It is laaaaame. And I love ferrets. How dare she not like them! Now THAT was just depressing. He broke her famous-person-plate collection. That's like someone ripping apart all my posters or stealing my pins! Ok. Enough of this. On with the fic!**

**Chapter four: Good news **

"What's wrong?" asked Ron, taking Hermione's traveling cloak as she stepped into the head quarters of the Order of the Phoenix. She was pale and shaking, her eyes red.

"It's Fluer. We found her… her body," said Hermione, sitting down beside Ron. The room that had been loud when she first walked in was now completely silent. A little sound came from the back of the room, and Victoire, followed shortly by Teddy, appeared in the door. She had been staying with Molly, and spent a lot of her time these days in head quarters with Teddy in a spare room that had been filled with what toys they could find.

"Mamma?" she asked.

"Not now, luv," said Molly, giving her a hug. "stay in the other room with Teddy." Victoire nodded sadly, and went back into the other room. Molly made sure the door was properly shut this time.

"Where?" asked Ron, who had his arm around Hermione in a comforting way. The two had been getting along better lately, but his speaking seemed to alert Hermione to the presence of his arm .She shrugged it off lightly.

"Nocturn Alley. She must've caught him there… shopping." Hermione looked like she was going to start crying again, when Molly came up to her and wrapped her arms (**A/N randomness: Hanna Montana/Miley Stewart=MOOOORRRRROOOOOOOONNNN!!!!!! And references to her songs are LAAAAAME!) **around Hermione and brought her to the door with the intension of letting her get some rest, when that same door opened to reveal Ginny Weasley, grinning.

"We've got him," she said triumphantly.

"Greyback?" asked Charlie.

"Yeah!" said Ginny, brushing the blood from her cheek casually. "Kingsly's got him in the jail." It almost seemed insensitive to Fluer, Hermione and the little girl in the next room, but when they heard this, they all became excited and jumped from their chairs to get the details. Things were always so bad that on the rare occasion they had a win, they needed to take advantage of it. They needed an excuse to be happy, and the last time they had had one as good as this had been George's and Angelina's wedding two years ago.

Ron grinned and pulled his younger sister into a one-armed hug, kissing her affectionately on her forehead, just beside the scar that marred the side of her pretty face. She hugged him back, tears forming at the edges of her eyes. She had been away from her family for the last six months with no contact, leading a small group trying to bring down Fenrir Greyback's werewolf army. It had been during the first month that Bill had died. Now, without there leader, Ginny finally was far enough ahead of them to come back, thankfully with good news. (**A/N omg! CHEEEESY! Not the fic. The Hannah Montana. Well, maybe the fic, but I hope not. "please jump…" off a cliff!)**

"Good job," said Ron before Ginny got swept up by her mother who was bawling her eyes out.

"You're home! My baby! Home!" Ginny, rolled her eyes at Ron over her mother's shoulder as Molly Weasley rambled on about missing her and such.

While everyone was busy talking with the members of Ginny's team, she and her mother left to go to Phoenix.

"Are they going to bury Fluer with him?" she asked, looking at the gravestone of her brother. He had been closer to her than any of her other siblings, and she had not wanted to hear of his death the way she had. She was spying on some of the wolves, listening in on them and they were talking about the latest kills. It wasn't a cheerful thing for her to hear, but it was something she felt the need to know. Bill had come up casually and they had actually laughed at his death. That had been her weakest moment, and she had killed both of the men before her without a second thought. She had never killed anyone for something so little as mentioning her family, and she found that it didn't ease her pain at all. When it came down to it, her brother was still dead, and the murderer, still at large.

"I'm not sure," said Molly. "I got the impression that there wasn't, well, much of a body left to bury. But, yes, I do think they will do everything in their power to make sure they are together." Ginny waved her wand and a simple bouquet of peach roses, expressing gratitude and modesty. Bill would not have liked black roses or lilies.

"How's Victoire?"

"She spoke today. That's an improvement," said Molly, a grim look on her face.

"oh," said Ginny, her voice quiet, trying to hide the sob in it. Her lip quivered as she tried with all her might to keep the tears in. Molly looked at her sympathetically and wrapped her arms around her tightly. Ginny burst into tears and cried quietly into her mother's shoulder until she had no more tears to cry.

"Shh…" said Molly, stroking her only daughter's hair, starting to cry as well.

"Ginny's back?" asked Angelina with a smile.

"Yeah," said George, also smiling as he sat down beside his wife at the table in their house. They had just put the twins to bed.

"You seen her yet?"

"No. She and Mum went to Bill's grave. I thought I should let them be."

"Good choice," said Angelina, wrapping her arms around the red-haired man.

"We all have tomorrow off for Victoire's fifth birthday. We can see her then." He paused. "I should go make sure the twins haven't escaped again," he added as an afterthought.

Angelina smiled fondly and moved toward the door. "I think I'm going to go see how Hermione's doing. Be back in a bit." She gave George a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving.

About ten minutes later, Angelina stepped into the library.

"Hello," she said quietly, leaning over the front desk to Hermione, who was staring off into space.

"Hi…"

"How are you holding up?" asked Angelina, putting her hand on Hermione's.

"I… she died months ago and we just found her body because… because there were too many dark marks everywhere… she was just… leaning there against a wall with a homeless man using her as a pillow… there were five dark marks above one street! I just- I just can't do it anymore! I knew some of those people! The homeless man using Fluer as a pillow went to school with me and he didn't recognize me!" Hermione started crying. "I just feel so alone. Harry… and Ron…"

"Ron's still here. He's trying to be a part of your life again if you'd let him."

"He just… we're both different. And when I'm with him, all I can think of is everything that's happened since Hogwarts…"

"Maybe you just need some time away from the Order. I hear Ginny's taking some, and you could spend some time with her. I know you missed her."

"I… I don't think I can. I need to keep fighting… I owe it to… to…"

"To Harry?" asked Angelina. They rarely spoke of Harry Potter these days. The very sound of his name was considered taboo by many. Not to Hermione and Ron, though. They avoided the topic because it was more painful to them than to anyone else in the city.

Hermione looked down, and did not answer. Angelina decided not to press her. "Will you be coming to Vicky's party, tomorrow?"

"I… yes. I think I will."

'Well,' thought Angelina, smiling, 'at least that's something…'

**A/N ok… so not happy… but I gave them something to be happy about with fenrir being caught! Ok… ill have some happiness in it I promise! PLEEEEAAAASE REVIEW! DON'T MAKE ME GO BACK AND COPY THE INTENSE THING I WROTE ABOUT REVIEWING FROM THE LAST FIC I WROTE! IM TOO LAZY TO WANT TO DO THAT, BUT I WILL IF YOU DON'T REVIEW! xoxox**


	5. The Stone

**A/N I haven't posted to this for a while, though I doubt anyone cares. I notice that nobody really likes this fic, but whatevs. I don't care. I'm gonna keep writing.**

"I don't know what it is…"

"I thought we should take a look. It looks familiar. I think it was Dumbledore's…"

"…did you touch it?..."

"No…"

"Curses…"

"…maybe…."

Victoire could only hear parts of the conversation. She was eight years old, and spent most of her time in a small room in the Order's head quarters. Right now, she was watching as a crowd of people gathered around a small object partially wrapped in cloth, clutched in her Uncle George's hand. She had seen that it looked like a stone of some sort. She, of course, wouldn't usually have been able to see this in such a thick crowd, but her uncle always knew when she was watching, and liked to include her. They never spoke of this, but she caught occasional smiles or winks. She loved her Uncle.

The group set the stone down on a table and they moved across the room to talk about the 'centaurs,' or whatever they called them. They had been in the 'forest,' which was above. Vicky had been above, but not since before she was orphaned. A lot of the things the order talked about made no sense to the girl who had, for the most part, been raised underwater. She crept out through the opened door slowly, making her way to the stone, and once she wrapped her small hand around it, she ran back into her room as fast as she could.

When she got there, she looked at it, at a loss of what to do. As she wondered what she could even try to do with her very, _very_ limited magical ability, she turned it over in her hand a few times, looking at the engravings on it. It showed a triangle with a line and a circle in it. When she looked up, she found herself strangely unsurprised to be gazing into familiar eyes.

"Mamma?" she asked quietly, her voice shaking a bit.

_"'Ello, my love," _said the woman standing before Victoire. She was immersed in an other-worldly light, giving her already-beautiful, vila complexion even more shine and glow. Next to her stood Bill Weasley, Victoire's father.

"Daddy," she said, tears now in her eyes as she smiled at the two, glowing figures before her.

"_Look at how beautiful you are,_" said Bill fondly. "_You've grown so much. How are you, honey?" _

"I… I missed you. Are you going to stay with me?" she asked, timidly.

"_You can see us as long as you 'ave that stone,"_ said Fluer. "_but we aren't really back. We aren't alive, okay?" _she continued, her hand on the shoulder of the small girl.

Now Victoire was crying a lot more. "Why not? Why!?"

"_Notheeng can brreeng back ze dead. Rremember zat," _said a slightly thicker French accent, coming from a new, pale figure. It was her Aunt Gabby.

Victoire spent that day alone in her room, talking quietly to herself. It made Mrs. Weasley worry. She had no idea who was in the room with her grandchild.

"Did you ever find out what happened to it?" asked Angelina at dinner the next week.

"Well, I have an idea, but I don't think it was important, anyway," Answered George, serving broccoli to his six-year-old children.

This food, as it turns out, was ideal food-fight food, and, therefore, the conversation was brought to an abrupt halt as the next half hour was spent trying to make sure some portion of the food ended up in the twins' _mouths_. The twins were naturally troublesome. It was literally just in their nature. This surprised absolutely no one that had ever met their father.

The other very distinctive thing that was apparent even then when they were only six was that they were _smart_. Like, they were _unusually _smart. That was what led them, a year later, after hearing another mention of the stone, directly to Vicky. Vicky always knew what was going on in the order, and they knew that, if they needed help stealing something, their cousin was a reliable source. This was how it came about that two seven-year-olds were currently unsupervised in their older cousin's room, going through every drawer. They had planned to just ask, but Vicky, as it seemed, was out for the moment.

"I've got it!" said Roxy, triumphantly, holding up a large, black stone that seemed, for the most point, disappointing and boring.

"That? But tha's just a borin' old rock, Roxy."

"And that's what we're looking for, right!?"

"Give it here!"

Roxanne tossed the rock across the room and her brother caught it easily. Something about these twins was scarily synchronized.

"It has the markings he talked about on it…"

"Exactly!"

"What'd'you reckon it _does?_" asked Fred, turning it over absent-mindedly.

"Dad!?" asked Roxanne, suddenly, her voice high-pitched.

"What!?" shrieked Fred almost instantly, hiding the stone behind his back.

But something about this was wrong. This was certainly _not_ their father. He looked just like him… but… _younger_. And whoever it was, it _wasn't_ George Weasley. The twins both started to circle the stranger simultaneously, each going in an opposite direction around him. They noted his pale complexion and the unusual sheen it had to it. Fred, on one side of this man, was horrified to see that he was missing the better part of his left ear.

"Roxanne, he's-"

"-Uncle Fred," she finished, looking up in awe.

"_Very good,_" said the man who gave Fred his name, grinning exactly like their father did when they did something bad and their mother wasn't looking.

The twins looked at each other, eyes wide, and then grinned together.

"Wicked," they said at the same time.

"How're you here?"

"Are you staying?"

"Is it true that you got your ear blown off by _Snape!?_"

"Is he really as evil as they say?"

"What's it like to _die?!"_

"Does Dad know you're back?"

"I've stolen your name!"

Fred laughed.

"_I don't reckon he's told you why though? I bet people thought it was really sweet and all, but we actually just made a deal before the battle of Hogwarts that if one of us died we would have to name our first child after the one of us that died, even if it was a girl. Didn't actually think he'd follow through with it though."_

"He didn't," said Fred.

"_I_ was first," explained Roxanne.

"_Bastard," _muttered Fred, a fond smile on his face.

"Uncle Fred?" asked Roxanne, looking up at the ghostly man with a very innocent look on her face.

"Can we keep you?" finished Fred, looking up with a startlingly similar expression from the other side of the deceased teen.

Fred chuckled, but his expression fell a bit. "_No. No, I don't think you can. But you can do something for me." _The children looked at him directly in the eyes, hanging on his every word. "_Give this stone to your dad. Victoire's been using it too much and it's not good for her. Tell your dad what to do with this stone, alright? All you have to do is turn it over and I can come back, but we can't use it. It's not real, alright?" _The twins nodded._ "Can you promise me that you'll give it to you're dad?" _They nodded. "_Can you keep that promise?" _They looked at each other briefly and then nodded. "_Good. Tell you'r dad, hey from me, okay?" _They nodded at the smiling man, who snapped his fingers, probably just for show, and vanished without another word.

No sooner than the eerie light around him had faded, did George enter the room, panting. "There you are!" he said breathlessly, but grinning. "Your mother," he explained. "She was scarred out of her wits. She's so bloody protective of you two," he said, giving them hugs.

Fred looked at Roxanne, who nodded, and Fred held out his hand, opening his fingers reluctantly.

"The stone?" asked George in shock.

"Vicky had it."

"And you're… giving it to me?" asked George in shock. His children nodded. "Thank you," he said, smiling and accepting the rock, "but I thought Victoire might have it, and I don't see the harm in letting her keep it." He made to put it down, but was blocked by a hand.

"That's not what Fred said," said Roxanne.

"Well, you can't trust everything your brother says," said George, chuckling.

"Not _my _brother," said Roxy.

"_Your_ brother," finished Fred.

There was a long pause. George's eyes were wide and his smile had vanished.

"What? Why do you know what… what Uncle Fred said?" he asked, his voice empty in a way that was not recognizable to his young children. They were worried that they had said the wrong thing.

"He… he said…" started Roxanne, timidly, which was not a way one often heard her speak.

"'Hey,'" finished Fred, avoiding eye contact with his father, which was only something he did when he knew he had done something worse than usual.

"Children… go home to… to your mother, okay?"

They nodded and exited the room.

George looked down at his hand that was now grasping the stone tightly, his knuckles white. He looked at it closely, now, seeing the symbol on it and, for the first time, recognizing it. Hermione had told him, briefly, of the Deathly Hallows, just recently. It was a touchy subject, and quickly dropped, but he had remembered the symbol shown to him quite clearly. This was it.

He stared at the stone, feeling it's magic, and knew that this was the last time he could see his brother in his life. Tears welled in his eyes as he took his wand out, pointing it at the stone. Wordlessly, he caused it to crack and crumble in his hand with a simple spell.

He bowed his head to hide the tears and held out his hand letting the dark sand blow away as he made his way home slowly.

**A/N no time for a long an. Please review. Bye. xoxox**


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